


and miles to go before I sleep

by icebluecyanide



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Angst, Elijah-centric, Episode: s04e09 Queen Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebluecyanide/pseuds/icebluecyanide
Summary: "It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it's called Life." -Terry PratchettDying feels a little like dreaming. 4x09 fic.





	and miles to go before I sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furrydolphin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=furrydolphin).



The woods are lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.  
 _Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening_

 

 

 

Dying feels a little like dreaming.

 

 

 

“Elijah?” Niklaus calls from outside, voice young and high as it had been before he’d had his first growth spurt. “Brother, are you in here?”

“Don’t come in,” Elijah says, then immediately starts coughing again. His whole frame rakes with these coughs and his lungs hurt. He shivers and pulls the furs closer around him. The fever is making his head ring if he sits up too long.

When he opens his eyes, he can see his brother standing at the door, having come in despite his earlier warning.

“Don’t come any closer,” he croaks, trying to sound stern. “I do not wish for you to get sick as well.”

“Mother said you would feel much better soon,” Niklaus says hesitantly. He’s never seen his older brother quite so sick before.

Elijah smiles weakly at him. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Go play with Kol or Rebekah. I will be on my feet again before you know it.”

Niklaus still looks like he might want to stay with his big brother instead.

“Go, Niklaus,” Elijah repeats. His chest feels tight as he tries desperately to suppress another coughing fit. “I will be perfectly fine as long as I can get my rest and perhaps some of Mother’s herbs.”

The mention of rest does the trick.

“I will tell Mother you need something for your cough and leave you to rest,” Niklaus decides, moving to the door. Elijah doesn’t doubt that his younger brother will be checking up on him again later.

Just before he slips through the door, Niklaus turns back to him, an unusually serious look in his blue eyes. When he speaks, only the barest trembling of his voice gives away his worry. “Do not keep me waiting for too long though, brother.”

Elijah waves him off with a real smile this time. “I won’t, I promise.”

 

 

 

“Listen carefully, then you can try for yourself,” Elijah instructs, his fingers already at the keys. The melody comes easily as always, as it had from the day he composed it and would until the end of time. His fingers dance across the keys and he’s distantly aware of Marcellus looking on in amazement.

“That was beautiful,” Marcellus says when Elijah rests his fingers and the final notes have faded away.

Elijah smiles. “Thank you. With practice you too will be able to play like this.”

Marcellus gives him a broad smile. The boy is still unused to compliments or people encouraging him, but he has started to gain some confidence with Elijah and his brother’s tutoring.

“Now have a seat,” Elijah says, rising from the small bench so Marcellus can sit down. “And I will show you how to play the first few chords.”

As he lifts his eyes over Marcellus’ head he meets Niklaus’ gaze where his brother leans against the doorpost, half-hidden in the dim hallway. Elijah stills. His brother holds his gaze for a few moments, his face unreadable.

“Elijah?” Marcellus asks hesitantly, like he still expects a beating just for using the first name he was explicitly given permission to use.

Elijah shakes his head and focuses on his teaching. He shows the boy how to put his fingers on the keys and which to press at the same time to get the right chord. It takes a while for Marcellus to get the hang of it but he is improving rapidly. Elijah smiles proudly the first time the boy plays the first few chords without mistakes.

By the time Elijah remembers to look up again, Niklaus is long gone.

 

 

 

Somewhere far away—as if in another world—he stretches out his hand, trying to reach Niklaus or maybe Hayley, but the circle that keeps his family from reaching him holds strong.

The venom is cold where it slips through his veins and slows his heart. Slowly but surely he can feel his blood stop flowing. It is not unlike desiccation, except it feels more final and Elijah knows with a distant certainty that he is dying.

Freya is doing some kind of spell in the background. Her chanting penetrates Elijah’s mind more strongly than any of the other sounds in the shed. It ebbs and flows, becoming clearer and then fading to a mere murmur.

He can still hear Niklaus’ anguished shouting when he finally closes his eyes.

 

 

 

Even covered with beautiful tapestries as they are the stone walls of the bedroom make Elijah feel like he’s walking into a prison. He finds his sister not far from where he left her early this morning, still sitting on the side of the bed keeping vigil like a silent guardian.

“How is he?”

The words slip from his mouth without him being aware of having spoken and then Rebekah is looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. She looks tired, as tired as Elijah feels.

“The same.” His sister glances to the side at a figure lying on the bed.

He can’t make out who it is. There’s something wrong with the memory. There’s a blur where another person should be, someone important, and if he could only remember—

“You should sleep, sister,” he says softly. He lightly rests his fingers against her cheek.

Rebekah leans into his touch, but then shakes her head, and Elijah drops his hand. “I’m not tired.”

“Your body isn’t weary perhaps, but even we cannot go on forever, Rebekah. You need your rest if only to have any peace of mind.”

“I can find no peace of mind with Nik like this,” she admits.

“I know.” He takes her hand and gently tugs it until she rises. “But please try. I will keep our brother company.”

He barely notices his sister finally taking his advice and leaving with a kiss pressed to his cheek. All he has eyes for is the bed and the person lying in it where there had been nothing but a blur before.

Niklaus. His brother, who has been tortured by terrible hallucinations for the past twelve years. He doesn’t know how he could ever have forgotten him.

Elijah leans forward and presses a kiss to his younger brother’s brow. Niklaus is frowning and looks disturbed even in his sleep, but these rare moments of rest are the most relief he gets these days. Their brother’s torment is unending and he knows Rebekah at the very least despairs of ever finding a cure for this affliction.

Resigning himself to a long night, Elijah pulls aside the covers to sit on the bed with his back to the wall. He finds a pillow to rest against and then reaches out to pull Niklaus into his arms and lets him rest against his chest. His actions must have woken his brother because suddenly a hand comes up to grasp at his tunic.

Niklaus clings to his arm, holding on to Elijah with such a death grip that the knuckles of his hand stand out white. It hurts, but Elijah brushes off the pain as he has done every time in the past years when Niklaus harmed him in his confusion.

“Shhh,” he soothes his brother, placing a warm hand on the clenched fist and willing him to relax.

“Elijah,” Niklaus says. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes are open but dazed in a way that leads Elijah to suspect he’s not actually aware of where he is.

“I’m here, brother,” he whispers, somewhere close to Niklaus’ ear. “I’m here and I’m not going to leave you.”

“Elijah,” Niklaus repeats, not seeming to hear him. “Don’t leave me, brother, please, brother—”

 

 

 

The fire burns low in the fireplace of the study. Elijah has always liked the quiet of the evening hours when the rest of the household has already gone to bed. It is a good time to work on his correspondence so it can be send off in the morning.

He knows before looking up that he isn’t alone in the study tonight, however.

“What happened between you and Marcellus?” Niklaus asks. He leans against the doorpost, arms folded. “He practically worshipped you before and now he refuses to even be in the same room as you.”

“I tired of indulging his whims,” Elijah says, going back to the letter he is writing. “I thought you would be pleased to have more time with the boy.”

“How can I be pleased when my brother and ward are fighting under my roof?”

“We’re hardly fighting,” Elijah responds, letting some irritation shine through. “I simply don’t care to continue the boy’s education any further. I have better things to do with my time than teaching Beethoven to strays you bring home.”

“You love music,” Niklaus says, unconvinced. “And you got along like peas in a pod before.”

“Perhaps,” Elijah starts carefully, putting aside his dip pen before it leaks on the parchment, then looking up at his brother. “But perhaps I simply have no desire to further assist in the education of my brother’s ward when said brother had the woman I loved murdered to cover up evidence of his own crimes.”

Niklaus clenches his jaw. “This again?”

Elijah just looks at him over his desk and doesn't deign that worthy of a response.

“Marcellus cried the other day,” Niklaus says, breaking their stand-off. “He tried to hide it but your rejection hurt him.”

Elijah forces himself to give an unconcerned shrug.

“Why do you push him away?” his brother asks again, more of bite in his tone this time. “He’s my ward, Elijah. He’s part of this family. You seemed to agree with that before. Even if you hate me for your little witch girlfriend, surely you can at least be civil.”

“I am always civil,” Elijah replies.

This time it is Niklaus giving him an annoyed look. “I heard the way you spoke to him. Don’t be so hard on him.”

“Or what, brother?” Elijah asks, raising his eyebrows a fraction. “Will you stick a silver dagger through my heart as you did with Kol?”

Niklaus doesn’t respond. Elijah holds his gaze for a moment longer before he picks up his dip pen again and returns to his writing.

“I won’t seek out the boy to torment him if that’s what you’re concerned about, Niklaus,” he says dismissively. “As long as he leaves me alone we should get along just fine.”

He’s aware of his brother moving closer to the desk but he ignores it, focusing instead on his letter.

 _It is to my regret that I must inform you that my brother Kol has left town_ , he writes, _as such he will be unable to attend any engagements in the foreseeable future._

“Careful, brother,” Niklaus finally says, making Elijah look up. He sounds more serious and contemplative than Elijah can remember. “Keep this up for much longer and you won’t have anyone left.”

 _I’ll have you_ , Elijah doesn’t say.

 

 

 

There’s a mirror in front of him, and he’s looking at his own reflection. Dark eyes stare back at him, hair carefully coiffed, his face freshly shaven. The light of the fireplace makes the golden cufflinks in his sleeves shine.

He’s adjusting his tie to lie perfectly flat when the mirror cracks.

It’s small at first, dividing the mirror into two parts, splitting his face in two. Then the cracks spread further.

The scene changes before his eyes into something entirely different. Some of the fragments now reflect a dark forest, and for a moment the door behind him looks almost red in the fractured mirror.

“One day only the monster will remain,” he whispers, echoing a far-away memory.

He reaches to touch the mirror and it breaks apart completely. Shards of reflecting glass fall down to the floor at his feet. Some of them still reflect the light of the fireplace or shine like distant stars he remembers having seen once. One by one the lights in the mirror fragment flicker and dim. Like glowing embers slowly dying.

When Elijah looks up all he can see around him are tall pines and a dark forest that stretches on forever.

 

 

 

He still holds his brother in his arms when he opens his eyes but the scene is all different from before. Pale light filters through the broken windows into the basement of the asylum and leaves the room cast in half-darkness.

Niklaus is looking at him in betrayal as Elijah sinks to his knees.

“Run as far and as fast as you can,” he forces himself to say. “Go!”

He sits with Niklaus held tightly in his arms until the sound of receding footsteps fades away.

When he finally lowers his brother to the floor, Niklaus doesn’t make a sound, but the way he trembles leaves no doubt that he’s suffering terribly. The memory of the betrayed look in his brother’s eyes accuses him.

“I have no wish to see you in pain, brother,” he says tiredly, “but you leave me no choice.”

 

 

 

“There is no way I will ever forgive you,” Marcellus is telling him.

It is just the two of them in a cheap roadside bar and as always Elijah remembers with sickening clarity the feeling of the younger man’s heart in his hand. Marcel looks at him with clear hatred and Elijah doesn't blame him.

It seems only fair. Elijah has certainly never forgiven himself.

 

 

 

“I haven’t cared about anything for centuries,” Niklaus tells him. “Why on earth do you?”

“Because I failed you,” Elijah says, with iron certainty. “Because the first time our father laid a hand on you, I should have struck him dead.”

He doesn’t think he’s been this honest with his brother in many centuries.

“I made a promise to you,” Elijah reminds him. “Always, forever, family above all.”

Niklaus just looks at him with tear-filled eyes before he starts laughing. A low, unamused laugh, like he’s never heard anything less funny in his life.

Well, that makes two of them.

 

 

 

When he opens his eyes he’s in a graveyard and judging by the stars above, it's late at night. Neither of these observations is very helpful for placing the memory.

“Do you remember at all what it’s like to be a human being?” someone asks.

“Not really,” Elijah admits, not really sure he knows where he is, much less how he’s supposed to feel. Human has never felt more abstract to him than in this moment.

There is blood still drying on his hands and he can't remember when exactly he stopped caring about his hands being stained.

 

 

 

“I know torment, brother,” Kol says next to him. “So I hope you somehow find peace in the abyss.”

Below them the river carries away his brother’s ashes. Elijah watches a tree branch drift down the stream until it disappears from view.

Peace sounds quite pleasant.

 

 

 

He’s making his way for the door to join his siblings when suddenly the world shifts.

Shoddy wooden walls give way to fine wall-paper and a mahogany desk. Familiar blue eyes are staring at him wide-eyed and he pauses in confusion.

“Hope?”

His young niece opens her mouth to speak, but before she can make a sound she fades away again and all that’s left is the same four walls of the room Elijah grew up in.

“Brother, are you coming?” Henrik asks, peeking back inside.

“Yes,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “Of course, Henrik, I’ll be there in a moment. Tell Finn not to start without me there.”

His youngest brother nods eagerly and rushes off.

Still standing in a memory of their childhood home Elijah tries and fails to shake off the idea that something is very wrong.

That there is something he’s forgetting about, something important.

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> Written for furrydolphin's prompt: **Klaus and Elijah (surprise!) and the phrase "It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it's called Life.**
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked it!


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